


Just Dessert

by CaseyM



Series: Raven Encounters [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: And a little strange, Elias cooks, F/M, First Time, Het, M/F, M/M, Marconi is jealous, Multi, Raven is just here for dessert, Resolved ST, Slash, Threesome - M/F/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1508447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyM/pseuds/CaseyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to “Raven” – Finch asks Elias to protect a woman for the evening, and the mob boss is the perfect host. While Scarface keeps watch over them both, Elias entertains his guest with wine, music and authentic Italian home cooking. After the threat is eliminated, they decide to forego dessert in favor of playing one of his favorite sexual games. But when Raven invites Scar to join them in bed, the UST between the men generates enough heat to scorch the sheets. And when Elias’ loyal lieutenant recognizes the succubus’ true nature, the night is definitely going to boil over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to my Reese/Finch/Raven story "Raven", http://archiveofourown.org/works/731473/chapters/1359156  
> Lionel Fusco has also encounters Raven in "Garanhão", here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/813565  
> The girl gets around ...

Carl Elias was surprised, but also pleased, to hear from his chess partner. “I’m in need of a favor,” Harold said formally, as always, “if you’re available.”

“For you, my friend, I am always available. Tell me what you need.” It went without saying that there would be a cost for this favor. Their relationship was entirely based on a _quid pro quo_ arrangement. Harold did not ask the terms. They both knew they would be scrupulously fair.

“There is a young woman named Raven Rook who is in some jeopardy,” Finch said. “My other assets are currently occupied. If you’re available to take her under your protection for the evening, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Certainly, Harold.”

“Thank you. I’m sending you an address. She’s wearing a blue dress.”

“Will Miss Rook be _amenable_ to being taken under my protection,” Elias asked, “or will persuasion be required?”

He could hear the small smile in his chess partner’s voice. “She has your picture, and she understands the arrangement,” he answered. “We expect to have the situation resolved by midnight; in any case, Mr. Reese will pick her up then at the latest.”

“I’m on my way,” Elias said. He put away his phone, gestured for his lieutenant. “Get the car,” he said. “We’re off to rescue a damsel in distress. And to do a little banking in the process.”

“Banking, Boss?” Marconi asked with a little twist to his lips.

“Banking a little good will from our friend in the glasses. For future use.”

“Got it.” He grabbed his keys off the counter and walked out.

The boss watched him go. He liked to watch Anthony Marconi walk out of a room. The man bought his jeans off the rack, but they fit like they were custom-tailored. Just tight enough to show the curves.

Elias shook his head. He couldn’t let himself think like that. Marconi was his first lieutenant, his right hand. His most trusted and reliable associate. His friend. If he’d said the errand involved robbing a bank, Scarface wouldn’t have batted an eye. Men like him were rare. Ridiculously rare. And Elias wasn’t going to do anything to endanger their relationship. Ever.

So staring at the man’s ass was out of bounds.

He grabbed his jacket and followed him out.

 ***

Anthony Marconi had mixed feelings about his boss’ relationship with Harold and his partner.

Not that Elias had asked for his opinion.

The big guy, Scarface had no problem with. He understood John. He didn’t quite get Elias’ soft spot for him, but he knew what Reese was. He was a fighter, a good one. Someday, hopefully, they’d find out which one of them was really better. Someday, the chains would come off and one of them would end up killing the other one. Scarface wasn’t sure which would be which. But it didn’t matter much either way. If he killed Reese, it would be the hardest fight he’d ever won. If Reese killed him, he’d go out knowing he’d been beaten by the best. It was all good.

But the little guy in the glasses? He scared the hell out of Anthony. He was so quiet, so smart. He knew everything. And if Elias’ affection for Reese was mysterious, his friendship for Harold was completely beyond Marconi’s grasp. He didn’t even try to understand it. He just stayed close when he could. And kept his gun handy.

He wasn’t, he told himself firmly and repeatedly, jealous.

Picking up a damsel in distress for the guy in glasses seemed straight-forward enough. Too straightforward for Marconi’s liking. It felt like a trap. Of course, everything felt like a trap these days. He never let his guard down. He checked his weapon on his way to the car. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he got the spare clip out of the glove box and put it in his jacket pocket.

It might be just a girl in trouble. But it might be something else, too.

He knew Elias didn’t think his little chess-playing friend would betray him. Marconi didn’t share his faith.

He rounded up some of the guys. They rode in two other cars; he drove Elias himself. The pick-up site was an upscale bar – it called itself a tavern – one of those fake Irish pub places where no real Irishman would be caught dead. Anthony parked in the valet zone. The other guys, he noted, parked close by, illegally. “I’ll go in,” he said.

“Anthony,” Elias said mildly.

“Then I’m going with you,” he insisted.

He went into the tavern first. There was a blast of heat and pop music and the smell of badly overcooked meat. But there wasn’t any threat to his boss that he could see. He stepped back from the door, held it for Elias. Then he gestured to the woman in the blue dress at the front table.

She’d already seen them. She stood up and reached for her purse. Marconi tensed, but it was a tiny bag, flat. If she had a weapon in it, it wasn’t big enough to pack much punch. Her hand came out with something green; cash money, nothing more. She left it on the table, snagged her coat, and walked over to them.

The dress was different. It was long, below her knees, though not all the way to her ankles. It had little white buttons all the way up the front, and a white collar. She wore white shoes, what he thought of as dancer shoes. It looked like an outfit his grandmother would wear – only this woman was young and pretty. It suited her, somehow. Like she’d walked out of an old Bogart movie and landed in this tacky bar. The outfit suited her way better than the bar did.

The glass she abandoned on the table, Marconi noted, was a rock glass with no rocks, a quarter inch of brown liquor left in the bottom. She drank her whiskey neat. In his book, that was a point in her favor.

“Miss Rook,” Elias said. He took her hand, gave it a squeeze, then released it and reached for her coat. “I’m Carl. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Raven,” she corrected gently, “please.” She eased into the coat as Elias held it for her. He offered his arm, and she slipped her hand under his elbow like she really was a dame from some old movie.

“Raven,” Elias purred agreeably. “Shall we go?”

Marconi turned and scanned the bar again. Still no threat. He covered them anyhow as they moved outside.

The boss opened the back door of the silver SUV for her, and the woman got in with remarkable grace. Then she scooted over to the other side. It wasn’t especially lady-like, but it was practical: Elias climbed in beside her. Marconi scanned the sidewalk one more time, then walked around and got in the driver’s seat.

He glanced in the rear view mirror. Their passenger was looking around, nervous. “Who should I be looking for?” he asked.

She met his eyes briefly in the mirror. “I don’t see him. An older man, six-three, very slim. Gray hair and very bushy eyebrows. Navy overcoat. He drives a gold Escalade.”

“Flashy,” Elias said with distain.

“Yes.” She sounded even less impressed than the boss.

Whiskey neat and a clear, short description of the threat. Marconi gave her another mental point.

Raven settled back as he pulled the vehicle away from the curb.

“You’ll be safe with us,” Carl assured her.  

“I appreciate your assistance.” Her voice was warmth, sincere.

“It’s our pleasure.”

Marconi continued to glance at her as he drove. She was pretty ordinary-looking, brown shoulder-length hair, brown eyes. Really, the dress was the most interesting thing about her. But there was something about her when she smiled, even nervously. Something that frankly shot straight to his groin. He wasn’t sure if Elias felt it too. His face was impassive, his voice casual. Even when the boss was riled up, he didn’t give it away. Usually only Marconi could tell. But this time he wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was just him.  

It had been a while since a woman made him feel that way. Not since before Elias had gone to prison …

He made himself stop thinking that way. The way his boss was, the way he could tell what someone was thinking just by looking at them – he couldn’t take the chance. If Elias ever guessed what he was thinking …

A little sports car cut him off. Marconi stamped on the brake and reached for his weapon at the same time. But the car got out of his way and went on. Not an ambush. Just another jerk driving badly.

He glanced in the mirror again. The woman was watching him, her eyes wide and a little alarmed. He nodded just once. She nodded back, gave him a little smile of thanks.

He put his hand back on the wheel and concentrated on his driving.

 ***

They took her to the townhouse. Harold and his friend already knew about it, so it made sense not to burn a new location for this little errand. Marconi kept his head on a swivel as they left the car, but they hadn’t been followed and he saw no threat.

He cleared the house anyhow and did a quick walk-through of the ground floor.

When he got back, Elias was just helping the woman out of her coat. He took the garment out of his boss’ hand and went to hang it up. Elias looked at him curiously. Marconi ignored him. He hung up the coat, then subtly ran his hands over the pockets. They were empty.

When he turned back, Raven was watching him. From her little smile, he knew she’d seen what he did and knew why he’d done it. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she held her slender purse out to him. “Go ahead,” she invited simply.

“That’s not necessary,” Elias said evenly, with a small disapproving wrinkle in his brow.

“I don’t mind,” the woman assured him. Marconi took the purse and glanced into it quickly. As he’d thought in the bar, it was too small to hold a weapon. He closed it and handed it back.

“Anthony …”

“He protects you,” Raven said. “He would not be good at his job if he wasn’t suspicious. Especially in circumstances like this.” Unexpectedly, she put one elegant foot up on the edge of the coffee table and hitched up her skirt. “And he’s not wrong.”

There was a flat dagger in a sheath strapped to her thigh. She unsnapped it and held the knife, sheath and all, out to Anthony. “You should hold this until I leave.”

Elias raised one eyebrow. The disapproving wrinkle vanished.

Marconi took the weapon. The leather was very warm from contact with her skin. Warm from her _thigh_ , he thought, and his cock twitched again. He met her eyes, just for a second. Raven nodded.

She knew.

She held her arms out away from her body. An invitation to frisk her.

She was teasing him.

“No,” Elias said firmly.

Marconi tucked the knife into his jacket pocket. “I’m gonna take a look around outside,” he said.  

The boss nodded briefly. He looked like he might still be a little annoyed. But he wasn’t mad enough for Marconi to worry about it. The woman was right: He was doing his job. And Elias knew it.

He had killed for Elias. He’d die for him, if he needed to. He’d do anything for Elias. Anything.

He was pretty sure Elias knew that, too. He’d just never think of all the other things Marconi wished the boss to ask him to do.

That was probably for the best.

He stopped on the front porch and took the dagger out. It was very slender, light. Sharp, of course. Elegantly crafted and perfectly balanced. Expensive. Somehow Marconi didn’t doubt that the mysterious woman knew exactly how to use the blade.

He put it away, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and went for a walk.

 ***

“He’s a bit over-zealous,” Elias apologized gently.

“He is faithful and conscientious,” the woman replied easily. “He cares for you.”

Carl nodded.  “He’s always taken good care of me.” This friend of Harold’s wasn’t what he’d expected. From her name he’d half-assumed she was a stripper or perhaps a porn star; Raven Rook was obviously a pseudonym. But that supposition had fallen away the moment he saw her. She wasn’t especially beautiful and wore only token make-up. Her dress, well-fitting and well-made, was not the current style. She looked like she’d just walked off the stage in _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ , right down to her square-heeled T-strap shoes. But he could tell already that there was a lot more to her than met the eye. That wasn’t surprising; the same was true of Harold himself.

And, of course, of Elias.

He gestured to the room. The living room opened into the chef’s kitchen, separated only by a breakfast bar, and then to a formal dining room. “Please, make yourself at home. Can I offer you a drink? A glass of wine, maybe? I have an extensive collection here.” He pointed to an opening at the far side of the kitchen, where an archway was closed off with an ornate floor-to-ceiling iron gate.

“May I see?” she asked.

“Of course.” Elias was more than happy to show off the selection. Something told him that this young woman was knowledgeable enough to be properly impressed. He turned the key in the lock and swung the gate open. The lights inside came on automatically. He gestured her ahead of him.

She hesitated, just for a second. She did not speak, and after that tiny hitch she went in ahead of him. Elias smiled to himself. He slipped the key out of the lock and handed it to her.

“I wasn’t …” she protested apologetically.

“Caution becomes a habit,” he answered gently, “and not a bad one.”

She took the key.

The gate swung shut behind them, closing them in the wide closet space. Then it swung open slowly. “I only keep it locked because otherwise it does that and I run into it while I’m cooking.”

The room hummed quietly. An assortment of concealed fans kept the temperature and humidity perfectly balanced. The lights were on a switch; they would shut off five minutes after the gate was locked. Elias didn’t bother to explain the system. She glanced around and clearly understood.

Raven took a bottle of red down carefully and studied the label. “Very nice,” she said, genuinely impressed. “You cook?”

“I do. I have a better year of that.” He brought down the next bottle. “Would you like to try it?”

She considered, shook her head. “I’m sure it’s good, but it’s a bit heavy for me.”

“For everyone, I think, unless you have a big side of pasta to go with it. Do you prefer dry or sweet?”

“Dry.”

“Good. Because I do, too, and that’s pretty much all I have.” He made another selection. “Have you ever tried Nebbiolo?”

“I haven’t.”

“Complex, dry, light. Shall we?”

“Of course.”

He took the bottle, led her out of the wine closet. “I didn’t think to ask, have you eaten?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” She locked the gate and left the key in the lock.

“Nonsense. Are you vegan? Food allergies?”

“No. But really, you don’t need to …”

He opened the refrigerator. “You like shrimp?”

“Yes, but … “

Elias brought a corkscrew out of the drawer. “Glasses are there,” he said, gesturing. “You are my guest for the evening. And my guests do not go hungry. Besides, I enjoy cooking for company.”

Raven smiled warmly, accepting his hospitality. “Thank you.”

He poured a little wine and tested it, then poured her a glass. “To your continued safety,” he toasted.

“And yours,” she agreed.

 ***

Anthony Marconi walked the neighborhood around the townhouse. He didn’t see any tall thin men with un-groomed eyebrows, nor any flashy Cadillacs. It was quiet. There were four of his guys keeping a watch outside, but he didn’t want to go back in himself. There was something about Raven that bothered him.

She wasn’t any threat to Elias. He wouldn’t have left them alone together if he’d had any doubts. She’d given up her weapon without a fuss, before he’d even known about it. Elias could handle himself in a fight, especially against a fairly small woman. That wasn’t what was bothering him.

Maybe, Marconi thought, she reminded him of someone. An old girlfriend. Or someone he’d spent a few nights with. There had been a lot of women like that. These days, not so much. He’d always been able to pick up pretty much any woman he wanted. It had gotten worse as he’d gotten older. These days, women threw themselves at him. Part of it was the status of being Elias’ right-hand man, he figured. Part of it was that he didn’t care anymore. Like his papa used to say, if you look hungry you don’t get fed. Anthony wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want any of them. Women couldn’t resist a man who didn’t want them.

Although – if he was honest, he _was_ hungry. Just not for anything any of them had …

He shook his head, threw off that thinking. Tall thin man, bushy eyebrows, gold Cadillac. Keep an eye out. Keep Elias safe from outside threats.

As he strolled back toward the townhouse, the front door opened and Elias came out with a plate in his hand. He was had shed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He was wearing his black apron. That was always a good sign. Anthony hurried to join him on the steps. The boss passed him the plate, with two big pieces of bruschetta on it. “Appetizers,” he said. “Everything all right out here?”

“All quiet, Boss.”

Elias nodded. “You could come in, you know. She’s not mad. About the search. Neither am I.”

Marconi shook his head. “I’m good out here.”

“Something bothering you?”

Anthony looked out over the quiet street. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Want to call some more guys in?”

“No. It’s okay. I’m just edgy, I guess.” He took a bite of the bruschetta. “This is good.”

“Of course it is.” Elias put his hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “Shrimp Fra Diavolo in half an hour.”

“My favorite.”

“I know.” The boss looked around again. His hand lingered. “You change your mind, come on in.”

“I will, Boss.”

Elias nodded again. Anthony knew he wasn’t going to argue with his intuition; he never did. He gave one more squeeze. Then he went back inside.

Marconi sat down on the step and took another bite of bruschetta. It was very good. Everything Elias cooked was good.

Elias was making his favorite shrimp dish for the woman, Raven. Anthony drew a deep angry breath. Jealous. He was jealous. Fine, he could admit that. He was jealous. But he had no right to be. Elias was his employer, his friend, nothing more. He had no claim on the man’s affection, or on his cooking, either. Elias would be horrified at the thought. Maybe even repulsed. Or angry.

And, Anthony thought, looking at the plate in his hand, it wasn’t like Elias had forgotten about him. There would be plenty of shrimp left, now or later. And there would be shrimp next week, and the week after that. The woman would be gone, but Anthony would still be here. He was used to taking his meals at the boss’ right hand. But he would do it again tomorrow. The woman didn’t mean anything. Elias was just being a polite host.

She was really pretty, he had to admit. But she was just one night.

He ate his bruschetta and he kept watch.

 ***

The woman liked the wine very much. She commented admiringly on the rest of his wine collection while Elias made the bruschetta. She was, as he’d guessed, very educated about wines. She knew a great deal about the vineyards of Italy and France, particularly about their history. He was pleased with her company, and more pleased with her well-versed approval of his cellar.

When he came in from speaking with Marconi, Raven was in the living room, flipping through his vinyl collection with one hand while she held her wine glass in the other. “Refill?” he offered.

“Please,” she answered. “This is wonderful.”

He carried the bottle over and refilled her glass. “The wine?”

“Yes. And the record collection.”

The crime boss smiled. “I’m pretty old-fashioned, I’m afraid. CDs just don’t sound the same to me.”

Raven nodded in agreement. “They’re not personal. You know every scratch on your albums, every dusty spot. You know the sound of your own stereo. CDs are all alike.”

“Yes.”

She nodded toward his turntable. “May I?”

“Please do. Anything you like.” Elias returned to his stove. He poured a bit of olive oil in the skillet to heat, then put seasonings in a bowl to toss with the shrimp. First the wine, he thought, and then the vinyl. It was almost as if she’d been coached to please him. Which was not inconceivable. “Do you play chess?” he called casually.

“Mmmm,” she answered absently. “I know how, but I’m not any good. I don’t have the patience for it.”

“You don’t enjoy it?”

“Not really, I’m afraid.”

Elias nodded, added a pinch of garlic. Interesting.

“I like poker, though,” Raven added. “Pretty much any variety.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Seven-card stud,” she answered immediately.

Carl preferred five-card stud himself, but he’d told Harold that he liked blackjack. “Blackjack?” he suggested.

“It’s okay,” Raven answered. “But I prefer to have the strategy in my hands, rather than the dealer’s.”

He made a happy little noise. Although – not agreeing with him on everything might be designed to calm his suspicions. That was Harold, too. The man had a long view of the board; he was more than willing to surrender pawns early.

“And I like slot machines,” the woman continued unexpectedly. “But I’m pretty sure that’s just about the bells and lights. I get as much fun out of nickel slots as hundred-dollar pulls.”

That, Elias decided, had definitely _not_ been something Harold would have told her to say. They had both agreed, over a chess board in a prison cell, that slots were for chumps.

He poured the seasoned shrimp gently into the hot olive oil and stirred them very lightly.

Music played in the other room. It was an orchestra, but Elias recognized it from the first few notes. Sinatra. Another thing he and Harold had discussed. But she’d selected _In the Wee Small Hours,_ an older album, not an especially popular one and not one of his favorite – though there was, of course, no bad Sinatra. It was an interesting choice.

He could hear her humming, murmuring. She knew all the words.

Elias leaned against the counter and looked toward the woman. She was still flipping through his albums. She sipped her wine, swayed slightly to the music. He felt a little stir of desire. She was stunning.

He narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t, actually. She wasn’t unattractive, but she was really rather plain. Clean and neat, not over-painted, not fussy. Just ordinary.

Maybe it had just been the light, at that moment. Or the fact that she enjoyed his music and his wine.

Maybe it was just that she was somehow Harold’s.

Elias grinned to himself and turned his attention back to the stove. He removed the shrimp from the skillet, then eased chopped onions into the same oil. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he called casually, “why is this man in the Escalade chasing you? What does he want?”

Raven came to the end of the counter. “He wants me.” She picked up another piece of bruschetta and took a bite.

“Dead?”

She shook her head, wiped at her mouth with one finger while she swallowed. Again, Elias felt his groin twitch. Because she touched her finger to her lips? That was insane. “Alive. Preferably bound, but alive.”

The inexplicable attraction began to center in his cock. “Is he your ex?”

“No.” She took another sip of wine. “He’s impotent.”

Elias’ eyebrows shot up. He stared very deliberately at the pan on the stove. “And he thinks you can cure that?”

“Yes.”

It took real effort not to look at her. There was such absolute certainty in that single word that Elias could not doubt her. He turned his hips away a little, though he was sure his mild arousal wasn’t visible under his apron. “But you’re not willing to help him?”

“It would kill him.”

Carl did look at her then. She was not bragging. She looked a little sad and weary.

“He has a bad heart,” she explained in response to his look. “That’s a part of why he’s impotent. I could help him. But he would almost certainly die.”

He lifted his own glass and took a slow drink. “Some men would prefer to die that way,” Carl finally said. “I’ve known men who would sooner risk death than continue to live without their virility.”

Raven nodded. “So have I. And some I have obliged.”

“But not this one.”

She was silent.

“I’m sorry,” Elias said sincerely. “I’m prying. It’s none of my business. You are safe here, that’s really my only concern.”

“I appreciate that,” Raven answered. She considered, then nodded to herself. “This man – if he had come to me with a single rose and an earnest request, perhaps I would have given him the death he wanted.” Her hand began to shake and she put her wine glass down. “But he came for me with chains.”

Elias added the rest of his ingredients to the skillet, stirred the mixture, then put on a lid and lowered the heat. He moved to the woman’s side. “You are safe here,” he repeated.

Ole’ Blue Eyes started singing again, low and slow, _Deep in a Dream_. Elias took the woman’s hand, drew her to the center of the room, and then pulled her into his arms to dance.

He did not hold her too tightly. He was proper and respectful. But having her close made him feel strong, powerful. He felt her body relax in his arms.   

_Virile_ , he thought. That was precisely the word for the way this smart, plain woman made him feel.

He smiled at her, then shifted so he was looking over her shoulder. There was a shadow outside the window, moving. He was not alarmed. It would be Marconi, of course. Patrolling the area, keeping them safe. Looking after Elias as he always did, faithfully and effectively.

An oddly attractive woman in my arms, Elias thought, and my mind is on Anthony Marconi. He sighed very quietly. It was bad, and it was getting worse. He needed to head it off somehow. No more thinking. He needed to take action.

 ***

“Your friend won’t join us?” Raven asked as she settled into the chair Elias held for her.

_Your friend_ , Elias thought. _Not your bodyguard or your man or that guy with the scar. Your friend._ Miss Rook was an exceptional judge of people and situations. He could see very clearly why Harold was interested in her.

“I invited him,” he said, “but he’s restless tonight.”

“I unsettle him,” Raven answered. She sounded as if this caused her sorrow.

“I imagine you unsettle a great many men.”

She met his eyes. “But not you, Mr. Elias.”

“Carl. And don’t be so sure.” He sat down and served the shrimp. There was plenty for both of them and Anthony later, too.

“This is wonderful,” Raven said after the first bite.

“Not too spicy?”

“No. Well, maybe.” She took a sip of wine. “But delicious. The shrimp is very tender.”

“The trick is not to over-cook it.”

She took another bite. “You are a man of unexpected talents, Carl. Thank you.”

He nodded happily. The shrimp was spicy, but he was pretty sure the glow in his stomach – and lower – had nothing to do with the food.

 ***

Raven insisted on helping to clear up. Elias made up a plate for Anthony and covered it while she loaded the dishwasher. She washed the cooking utensils and smaller bowls by hand, but he dealt with the cast iron himself. While he finished, she drifted back into the living room. After a moment the smoky sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s voice filled the room.

Elias smiled. “You have excellent taste.”

“You have an excellent collection.” Raven smiled in return.

“I don’t have much in the way of dessert, I’m afraid. Some ice cream?”

“That would be lovely. Just a little, though.”

He got the carton out of the freezer. It was plain vanilla, but top of the line, the very expensive brand that only came in pints. It was Anthony’s favorite. As he finished scooping it into two small bowls, his phone chirped. Elias glanced at the screen, then answered as he put the little carton back in the freezer. “Harold.”

“The threat to Miss Rook has been neutralized,” his chess partner reported. “I’m sending Mr. Reese to pick her up.”

Elias glanced at Raven. She was looking through his albums again, swaying gently to sounds of smooth rich Ella. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “We’re still having dessert. We’ll see that she gets home safely after.”

Raven looked over, nodded her agreement.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”

“Not at all. We’ve had a lovely evening.”

There was a bare instant of hesitation in Harold’s reply. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Talk to you soon, Harold.”

Elias dropped his phone into his shirt pocket and went to join the woman. “Harold says that your gentleman with the chains has been dealt with.”

She smiled more fully, relieved. “Thank you.”

“I’ve done nothing but enjoy your company.” He took her hand, drew her into his arms to dance again.

“I disturbed your plans for the evening.”

“I had no particular plans anyhow. You were an unexpected but delightful diversion.”

Her body curved against his arm, relaxed, soft. Elias felt strong again, powerful as she yielded. He nearly always got his way, of course, but this was different. Raven knew his power, certainly, but she did not fear him. He had not overpowered her, physically or emotionally. Far from it. She yielded to him because she wished to. Because she desired …

The woman had, he realized suddenly, a power of her own. There was something about her far stronger than the sudden sexual appeal Elias felt. Something deep, unknown. Something a little frightening. This small, plain woman in his arms suddenly felt … dangerous.

But she yielded. _Yielded._ Surrendered her power, her body, to his virility …

Elias felt light-headed. Overwhelmed. A deep desire took hold in his gut, primal, raw. He _wanted_ her.

He moved to kiss her. She stayed precisely where she was, waiting. His move. His lead. He was in charge – not because he insisted, but because she wanted him to be.

He hadn’t planned to seduce her.

It was a terrible idea, for a number of reasons.

Elias paused, pulled back a bit so he could look into her eyes. They were bright, sparking with amusement and expectation. “Bringing you here tonight, protecting you,” he said, “I did this as a favor for Harold. It is his debt. Not yours. You are under no obligation.”

Raven nodded, still meeting his eyes. “And now that the threat is gone, you are under no further obligation to protect me – or entertain me.”

The mob boss has not thought of it in those terms, but he appreciated her words. “So this is just … dessert.”

“Precisely,” she answered warmly. “Yes.”

_Yes. One word, simple. Yielding_. The sensation of that one word raced through Elias’ body and he felt warm everywhere. His cock begin to fill. She danced close enough that she could certainly feel it. She did not seem disturbed. _Yes._

Anthony wouldn’t like it …

Elias shook the thought away. Beyond security concerns, Marconi didn’t care who his boss hooked up with. Hell, he’d probably be relieved if Carl got his rocks off good and stopped looking at his ass for a while. Yes. That made more sense.

He kissed her gently. Her lips met the pressure of his exactly; she accepted his soft kiss, but did not press for more. Her lips did not part before his did; her tongue explored as tenderly, as delicately as his did. But there was something in that kiss, something restrained, something longing, that make Elias shudder.

She let him lead, like the polite guest she was, but he could feel the powerful desire coiling in her. She could take control of him in an instant, he thought illogically. She could make him do anything she wanted. But she didn’t. She yielded.

It was no wonder Harold was so …

Reluctantly, Elias lifted his lips away from hers. “Oh, I would love to take this further,” he said. “But my friendship with Harold is very important to me.”

Raven tipped her head, puzzled. “And to me. But what … oh.” She smiled gently. “Oh.” She reached into his pocket and took his phone, pressed the speaker and then the redial buttons.

It rang an uncharacteristic six times before Harold answered. “Yes, Elias?” His voice was breathless and impatient.

“It’s Raven,” the woman said. With her free hand, she stroked her fingers along Elias’s hairline over his ear. “Carl is concerned that you’ll be offended if he takes me to his bed.”

“Why -- uhh!” The man gasped as if he were in pain. “Why would I be? I have no – uhhhh – no claim on your favors.” He grunted sharply, twice. Then he gave a long satisfied sigh.

Harold wasn’t in pain, Elias realized. He was in the middle of something much more pleasurable.

The notion of Harold in the throes of passion – the vision Elias suddenly had of his oh-so-proper chess partner with his tie loosened, his glasses askew, his exquisitely-tailored trousers undone and – who? Who the hell was Harold having sex with right now?

In his next thought, he didn’t care, because the woman – the impossibly sensual woman in his arms – brushed her mouth against his ear. “Thank you, love,” she murmured.

“Do as you like,” Harold answered, more clearly now. “I wish you joy.”

Raven clicked the phone off and returned it to his pocket.

There was a brief silence, and then the album moved on to another track. Elias pulled the woman closer, so that her chest pressed against his. He felt the hardness of her nipples through his shirt and his breath grew short. She smelled delicious.

“Why?” he murmured against her ear.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m not a particularly handsome man. Not young, not especially fit. Is it the power? The money? What is it?”

She leaned back in his arms. “I like the way you cook.”

“Ah.” Elias smiled. “So it’s the shrimp.”

“Oh, I like _what_ you cook,” Raven agreed. “But I like _how_ you cook more.”

“How.”

“You are very decisive. Very confident. You know precisely what you intend to accomplish, and you proceed with the fewest possible diversions.”

In cooking, Elias thought, and in the rest of life. He was good – very good – at reading people. He was deeply impressed at her skills in doing the same. From such short observation. From such a simple act as cooking a meal.

“But also,” she continued, her fingers trailing over the outside of his ear again, “you are flexible, sensitive to the necessary variations. A higher heat when the shrimp are a size larger than expected. A pinch more sea salt when the onions are a bit sweet. You notice. You respond. You adapt. To get precisely the result you’re seeking.”

He was undeniably hard now. He made no attempt to conceal it. “And from watching me cook, you’ve decided that I’m probably good in bed.”

“I’m certain of it.”

Elias turned his head, claimed her lips again. There was no gentleness in this second kiss. He was insistent, demanding. She met his intensity. Unresisting, unafraid. Welcoming. He pushed her against the wall gently and ravished her mouth. Tongue, teeth, lips. Deep. Hard.

He felt the power in her again. He didn’t understand it. It felt – old. Like the rust-and-copper scent of fresh blood, it was primal and unchanging. It thrummed between them like a pulse. And still she followed his lead. Submitted to his desires.

He wanted her.

He wanted to be precisely as she expected him to be.

He backed away and took her hand. “Come with me,” he invited. He heard the growl in his own voice. “Bring your wine glass.” He grabbed the bottle as he moved past the counter.

Raven followed him without hesitation.

 ***

 


	2. Chapter 2

Anthony Marconi stuffed his hands in his pockets. It had been pleasant enough earlier, but it was starting to get cold now. He had gloves in the SUV, but he didn’t go to get them yet. He just strolled around, trying to look unconcerned. He could feel the other guys watching him.

The shrimp would be ready by now. He could go inside and get warm and eat. But he didn’t want to. There was something about the woman. Not a danger to Elias. But unsettling, and he still couldn’t figure out what.

Maybe he was just jealous.

He leaned against the pole of the streetlight and pulled out the woman’s weapon. The sheath was plain, thin black leather, very nicely tooled. The thigh straps closed with Velcro, but the straps themselves were heavy cotton, also black. Strap it on right enough and it wouldn’t move, wouldn’t chafe.

He put his thumb on the hilt and slid the knife out. It was flat two-sided blade, very good steel, very sharp. The handle was oval, nearly flat, wrapped in the same black leather that made the sheath. The guard was small; in a real fight it wouldn’t be much use. But for a quick hit, unexpected, it would get the job done.

He gripped the hilt. It was too small for his hand. His fingers got in their own way. It was delicate, lady-like. But in Raven’s little hand …

The leather-covered hilt felt hot in his hand. He remembered how warm the sheath had been when the woman gave it to him. Skin-temperature from her thigh. The casual ease with which she’d peeled it off and handed it over. The paleness of the skin on the inside of her leg …

And just that fast, Marconi thought in surprise, he had half a boner.

Well, there was something damned sexy about a dame with an elegant pig-sticker strapped to her leg. And the way she handled it, which implied she knew how to use it – he’d always had a weakness for women who could fight for themselves. Straight whiskey, good descriptions, a decent reasonable weapon. And handing it over with no fuss. There was a lot to like about the woman.

He did like her, Marconi realized in surprise. If Elias decided to have her stick around for a while, he’d be okay with that. She wasn’t Carter, not flashy and sassy and strong, but she was okay. Sensible. Nice.

Raven was a _nice_ lady.

She’d be good for Elias, maybe. At least she wouldn’t be bad for him.

And really, that was all Anthony wanted. Someone who would be good for Elias …

He’d be good for Elias, too. He _was_ good for Elias. But not in all the ways that Raven could be. Not because he didn’t want to be, but because Carl would never want him _that way_ …

He shoved the knife back into the sheath, the sheath back into his jacket, his hands back into his pockets. He pushed off the pole and strode into the shadows.

 ***

Raven stopped at the side of the bed and stood very still, her hands at her sides, watching him. Waiting for a cue. Or a command. The sensation filled Elias’ head again; his cock stiffened more in the now-tight confines of his pants. He closed the bedroom door, untied his apron and dropped it onto the chair.

He took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the dresser. “What’s off the table?” he asked. He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. It filled him with confidence.

“Nothing,” she replied simply.

“Nothing except chains?”

“Even chains might be negotiated, with some provisions. You are not a man with a death wish.”

A little smile pulled at the corners of Elias’ mouth. _Oh, Harold_ , he thought. _Of course she’s rare and uncustomary. Extraordinary. Of course._ “I think for tonight,” he said, “a game that requires a little less preparation. And negotiation.”

He put his hands on her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her thoroughly. Then he stepped back and began to unbutton her dress. The buttons were tiny, white, and ran all the way from her collarbone to the hem. It would take a while. He didn’t mind.

Raven reached for the front of his shirt as well. Elias shook his head. “I’ll get to that later.”

She nodded obediently and dropped her hands to her sides.

That simple act was more arousing to him than anything else she could have done. His hands trembled a little as he moved to the next button. But her eyes remained fixed on his face; she didn’t notice.

The dress front fell open a bit, revealed a simple white bra beneath it. He found it oddly charming; it was completely appropriate under this throw-back era dress. This was not a woman who had dressed to be seduced this evening. He liked that. Her breasts were full but not overlarge; they curved up from the delicate lace at the edge of the undergarment. He placed a chaste kiss between them, over her heart, and continued.

At her waist, he paused long enough to unbuckle her slender white belt. It was suspended by loops at each side seam, so he let it hang there. He dropped to his knees and continued to undo the buttons. He pressed another kiss to her navel. Beneath, she wore simple white cotton panties.

He unbuttoned the dress all the way to the hem, then let it fall open while he unbuckled her shoes. They were white as well, with inch-high square heels and t-straps. He undid both straps, then held her ankles one at a time and helped her step out of them. Then he rose to his feet.

Raven’s eyes were wide and watchful as he eased the dress off her shoulders. She did not move, did not resist. He laid the dress carefully over the back of the chair. Then he took her shoulders and turned her so that she was facing the dresser and the wide mirror over it. He stood behind her, his hands on her hips, and looked over her shoulder. “You are exquisite,” he murmured in her ear.

Elias slid his hands up from her waist to slide over her breasts. Through the thin fabric of her bra, he could feel her nipples harden. He unfastened the front clasp, slid the bra away and dropped it on top of the dress. His wide hands moved to cover her breasts again. They were full and firm under his gentle squeeze. He ran his palms over her nipples and felt them grow even harder. In the mirror, he watched as Raven bit her lip in pleasure. She arched her back, pushing against his hands. Her eyes never left his in the reflection.

He was very aware of how tight his pants were over his erection. It was a pleasant pain. He rolled his hips gently against her ass. Her skin was smooth and faintly tan. Her curves were lovely. Her eyes were bright, but she waited for his touch. Elias exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine how he’d ever thought she was _plain_.

“A simple game,” he said, drawing his hands away. He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured the rest of the wine into the glass; it filed it to within a quarter inch of the top. He took a sip, held it to her lips while she did the same. Then he took her hand and put the glass in it. “Like this,” he said. He shifted her hand until the globe of the glass was held between her thumb on one side and her first two fingers on the other. “And this.” He turned her arm so that her elbow rested against her side with her lower arm extended, the glass suspended above the floor. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“You like the wine?”

“Very much.”

He grinned wolfishly as he moved behind her again. “Don’t spill it.”

“But I …”

“It’s a simple bet.” He slid his hands down her sides, hooked his thumbs into the top of her bright white panties. Nuzzled her neck and nipped at her shoulder. “I bet that I can make you spill the wine before I have to come.”

Her body shuddered. “And if you lose?”

“Then I’ll have to keep trying.” He smiled again. “But I never lose. Is that a game you’d like to play?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”   

He slid one hand across her stomach, placed it flat over her lovely little navel, and pulled her body tight against him. His erection pressed against her ass, hot ever through layers of fabric. She murmured her approval of his hardness, squirmed just a little against him. “No cheating,” Elias growled.

“I have not yet begun to cheat,” she assured him. She rolled her hips.

He took a deep breath. He was going to enjoy fucking her very much. But he planned to take his time getting to that stage. He pulled her tighter against him, pinning her, then moved his free hand to the top of her thigh and kneaded it gently. Then he stroked along the crease where he thigh joined her body, along the hem of her respectable panties.

In the mirror, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut. Her breathing grow heavier. He moved his lower hand to brush across the crotch of her panties. They were slightly damp already. She moaned, very softly, and licked her lips.

Elias lowered his mouth to the top of her shoulder and sucked on the soft flesh there. He moved his hand more firmly, feeling the bud of her clit harden through the cotton fabric. He could tell she wanted more stimulation, but he toyed with her for a moment, enjoying the rush of power that flowed through him again. He raised his eyes without releasing his bite. Raven’s head was back, her mouth slightly open.

He raised his fingers to her mouth. She sucked them in eagerly, hard, swirling her tongue urgently over them. Elias’ cock twitched uncontrollably. “You do that so well,” he murmured in her ear.

She moaned and he removed his fingers, kept them at her lips. “Let me suck you,” she whispered back. “Let me …”

“Later.” He traced his wetted fingers over her lips. “Don’t spill the wine.” He lowered his hand and this time eased them under the waistband of her panties. She moaned again, but he took his time, inching down past the narrow, well-trimmed patch of hair to find her cleft. She jumped when he touched her nub. He did not linger, but let his hand explore lightly, leisurely.

“Please,” Raven whimpered.

He traced over her slick folds. “In time.” He glanced at the wineglass. The liquid sloshed dangerously, but did not spill. Elias grinned to himself. He caught her clit between his two fingers and squeezed it, then stroked. The fabric of the panties limited his movement; it frustrated her more than it did him. He kept his caresses slow and light.

His head swam again. Part of it was his own arousal. Part was the woman’s complete willingness to surrender to him. She was like some magnificent instrument, like some priceless Stradivarius violin, and he was almost afraid he could not play her well enough to do justice to her worth. But she was moaning and writhing under his touch. He would do the best he could.

The wine did not spill.

He dipped the tip of his middle finger into her opening, drew her moisture out over her clit again. Raven arched her back, thrusting toward him. “Like that?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

He entered her with his fingertip again. Her body clenched at him, trying to draw him deeper. He resisted, toying with her. Stroking the nub of her clit and the sides. Circling her eager cunt without going any deeper. Enjoying her little cries of protest and pleasure. It was like a drug flowing through his veins, this mastery.

He envied Harold, and sent silent thanks for his sharing of this extraordinary gift.

He thrust a single finger deep inside her, and Raven climaxed, her inner muscles gripping him in rolling waves. She was very tight. It was just a small orgasm, but it promised so much more.

The wine still did not spill. But Elias grinned to himself again, wolfish and confident. She might only be on loan from Harold, but tonight she was his. He would tune her up and he would play her.

He withdrew his hand, reveling in her sounds of protest, turned her around and dropped to his knees in front of her. Without hesitation now he peeled her panties down to her ankles, steadied her with one hand on her waist while she stepped out of them. He lifted one of her feet and moved it to the side a bit, then put both hands firmly on her hips, his fingertips gripping her ass, and leaned forward to stroke her clit with his tongue.

Raven actually yelped in surprise and pleasure. It was a delicious sound.

“You are perfect,” Elias said. He planted soft kisses on her lower belly and upper thighs. Her empty hand came up and stroked his jawline and ear, but her touch was light, not trying to direct. He nodded his approval and leaned close, letting his breath wash over her folds before he followed with his tongue again. As with his fingers, he took his time and kept his touch light.

She whimpered, and he felt her weight settle in his hands as her knees threated to buckle. He eased her back so her butt rested on the edge of the dresser. Then he brought his fingers between her legs and stroked with fingertips and tongue at the same time.

With his other hand, Elias unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. His cock was full and hot, and already leaking pre-cum just a bit. Being loosened eased the worst of the ache.

He sucked the woman’s clit between his teeth, bit down very gently, and thrashed the tender tip with his tongue. Raven cried out. He slipped two fingers into her tight little cunt and thrust, and she came again, harder, longer. He lapped her gently through the climax, pumping his fingered slowly, drawing it out. The way her body squeezed his fingers made his cock ache and leak more profusely.

Elias glanced up. The wineglass was tilted, the wine just barely contained.

“Please,” Raven intoned. “Please please please.”

“What do you want?” he murmured against her skin.

“Please fuck me.”

He pumped his two fingers more quickly, steadily, and she came again at once. He paused, then added a third finger. “Like that?”

“ _Please_ ,” she wailed. “Oh, please.”

Elias grinned. Part of him wanted to do simply this all night, to take her over the edge again and again. It was deeply gratifying. But another part of him – specifically his aching cock – wanted more. Wanted pleasure of his own. And since she’d asked so nicely, he rocked back and stood up. He put his hand behind her neck and kissed her hard. “Such a good girl,” he said.

He stepped away and peeled the covers on the bed back. Then he took the wineglass from Raven’s hand and gestured. “Lie down.” She did, and somehow, despite being completely naked and fully aroused, she looked demur against the white sheets. When she was settled, he drew her hand over the edge of the bed and put the glass back between her fingers.

He looked at her while he took his own clothes off. There was a red spot going purple on her shoulder where he’d bit her, smaller ones on her breasts where he’d pinched. Her nipples were still hard dark nubs. Her skin was very white. The neat patch between her legs was very dark. Her waist was more tapered than he would have expected, and her curves a little more pronounced.

She watched his every move as he stripped. The open hunger in her eyes was frankly a little unnerving. But he had already pleased her, and the way she licked her lips at the sight of his cock was reassuring. He made himself not hurry. He reached into the drawer and brought out a condom, rolled it on with practiced nonchalance.

There was lube in the drawer, too, an unopened bottle. Just in case … he shook his head. There was a woman right here, willing and more than ready. He didn’t need to be looking for the impossible.

He moved onto the bed, sliding up from between her feet. She wiggled expectantly, but he didn’t mount her right away. Instead he hooked one of her knees with his elbow and lifted it, opening her wide. With his other hand, he thrust three fingers inside her. She was still very tight. He put the pad of his thumb on her clit and rolled it in gentle circles. Raven moaned and arched her back to press him deeper.

The wine splashed in the glass, but did not spill.

The look in her eyes as she watched him almost made Elias spill.

He worked her with his fingers until she climaxed again. It only took a few strokes. She was so ready for him, eager. Desperate. She wanted him, and she wasn’t shy about letting him know it. “Please,” she said, when she could speak again, “please, I want you inside me.”

Spilled wine or not, he could not resist her. He removed his hand and surged forward, entered her in one long, slow thrust. Raven’s body gripped around him like she was made for him. Maybe she was. Elias didn’t know any more. He could barely think. His mind swirled in confusion, caught between her pleasure and his own. But it wasn’t a necessary choice; she moved with him, in perfect unison, meeting every thrust. They were both on the same track, moving at the same pace.

He turned his head to check the wine one last time. It hadn’t spilled yet, but it didn’t matter. He could feel his balls pulling up, the pressure and need becoming unbearable. He was not going to be able to hold out more than a few more thrusts… two more … one more … 

 ***

Marconi let himself into the townhouse. He knew the food would be done, and likely the boss and the woman would be done eating. That would be better; he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of sitting down across the table from her. There was something about the woman …

The kitchen and dining room were empty. Beyond, from the living room, a woman sang the same line over and over. A skip on the record, Elias’ old vinyl collection – and no one had moved the needle gently past it.

Alarmed, Marconi put his hand over his weapon and moved through the room. There was no one in the living room. He lifted the stylus off the record and switched it off. Warily, he moved back to the kitchen.

There were two little bowls of ice cream melting on the counter. The expensive vanilla, the kind he really liked, and the kind he was pretty sure Elias bought just because it was his favorite.

There was a sound behind the bedroom door.

Marconi moved that way silently. He was a little surprised to find his gun in his hand, but he didn’t put it away. Maybe the boss was just getting lucky. But the ice cream bothered him. It wasn’t like Elias.

While he was still two steps from the door, still trying to decide what to do, he heard more sounds: Elias shouting and glass breaking.

The glass decided him. Marconi ran at the door, shouldered it open, and strode into the bedroom.

He got three steps before he realized that he’d guessed wrong. Elias was completely naked, on top of and balls-deep in an equally naked Raven. There was broken glass on the nightstand and a splash of red on the wall, too thin to be blood. From the sounds, they were just finishing up, in unison. For one second, Marconi watched Elias’ beautiful thighs driving his equally beautiful ass against the woman. Then he came to his senses and quickly half-turned away, just as they noticed him.

“Anthony,” Elias said. There was a funny tone in his voice. Not upset. Maybe just lust-drugged.

“Sorry, Boss,” Marconi mumbled quickly. He was careful not to look toward them. “I thought … I heard … sorry.” He took a step toward the door.

“Anthony, wait.”

He froze where he was, still looking carefully away from the bed.

Raven said, “Won’t you join us?”

Marconi spun around. Elias was staring at her, too, surprised. But then he turned his head again and their eyes met. “If you want to,” he said. His voice still had that strange tone.

He felt his pulse stutter. _In bed, with Elias. And Raven. Raven made it okay. Not gay if it’s a three-way, like they said on the street. But in bed with Elias, anyhow. As close as he was ever likely to get. In bed with Elias and no weirdness in the morning_. His cock throbbed inside his jeans.

“It’s an invitation, Anthony,” Elias said. “Not an order.”

“I just ….” he stammered. “I haven’t …” That was half a lie, actually. He had, once, and it had ended in disaster.

“Neither have I,” Elias assured him. “But I think we might be in very good hands.”

The woman smiled sweetly. She leaned up and whispered something in Carl’s ear. He smiled back. “She wants to know,” he said, “if she can suck you off while I watch.”

Marconi went fully hard so fast it made his head swim. _Fuck yes_ , he thought wildly. He couldn’t get the words out.

“You don’t have to,” Elias said again.

He was still on top of the woman. Still inside of her. But he was offering to share. He was offering …

“Yeah,” Anthony managed to breathe.

The grin that spread over Elias’ face blew away any reservations Marconi might have had.

Carl rolled sideways off the woman. Anthony tried not to watch as he peeled off the condom. Tried really hard not to stare at his mostly-soft cock. Tried to focus on getting his coat off while Elias snagged the sheet and pulled it up over his waist.

“Leave it on,” Elias said quietly.

Marconi stared at him. It took a stupidly long time to realize the boss was talking about his leather jacket. He paused, then dropped his hands. If Elias wanted to watch, great. If he wanted Anthony in leather while he watched … that was fine, too.

He brushed the broken glass away and put his gun on the bedside table. He added Raven’s knife as well.

The woman slipped out of the bed and stood up. She picked up Elias’ shirt from the floor and put it on, but didn’t button it. The sleeves were still rolled up, but it was too big; there was something wonderfully filthy about her dressed that way.

She moved to Anthony’s side, took his face between her hands, and kissed him, hard.

She knew how to kiss. He didn’t need any more foreplay; he was hard as a rock inside his jeans. But the way her tongue explored his mouth, demanding and welcoming at the same time – and knowing that she’d just kissed Elias the same way – Anthony didn’t try to resist. He knew he couldn’t, and he didn’t want to anyhow. This was better than anything he could have hoped for. He was going to enjoy every damn minute of it, for as long as it lasted.

Raven pushed him gently. He took a step back, then another, and then he felt the wall behind him. _That way, huh?_ He glanced toward the bed. Elias was stretched on his side, comfortable, expectant. The look in his eyes made Anthony groan.

The woman wore Elias’ shirt, and she smelled like his body.

Anthony closed his eyes.

Raven’s lips played gently over the scar beside his eye, then traced downward along his jaw. Then her hands took over, tracing down his chest under his jacket, over his shirt. He felt her move, and then her hands were on his belt. He opened his eyes.

She was on her knees in front of him.

“Oh, God,” he breathed.

She opened his jeans, cupped his cock through his briefs. Then she eased him carefully out, lowered the fabric and tucked it under his balls. She ran her hands over his cock, and then rubbed it against her cheek.

Anthony was very aware of the air around him, of his naked cock jutting into the open. Of Elias looking at him, fully erect. Watching. Pre-cum bubbled up at his tip and he groaned again. He wanted to make this last, to put on a good show for the boss. But the whole situation was unexpected and deeply erotic.

Raven did not hesitate. She cupped his balls gently with one hand, laid her tongue flat at the base of his shaft and stroked it firmly upward. She repeated the process in another location, lapping at him like an ice cream cone. Anthony rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling. It was good. So very good. Her tongue swirled around the crown, then darted back down to the base. Her hand kneaded his balls gently; she grasped his ass gently with the other one. She licked and nibbled and tasted.

“Take it all,” Elias said quietly.

Marconi snapped his head down. He’d forgotten, for an instant. But as Raven took his cock deep into her mouth, he met Carl’s eyes. They were full of passion, hazy with it. “Yessss,” Elias murmured, his voice rough and soft, as if it were his own cock being skillfully sucked. “Oh, yes.”

Raven sucked him hard and fast. Then she slowed down, eased up. Marconi balled his hands into fists and pounded softly on the wall in frustration and pleasure. _Finish it. Make it last._ He didn’t care. Elias’ eyes stayed on his. He was with him every step of the way. That made it twice as pleasurable.

He couldn’t hold out, but no one seemed to want him to. He grunted. His hips thrust forward of their own accord. He tried to stop, but Raven’s hand on his hip urged him forward. He thrust again, and she met him gladly. Took him. Sucked him, Hard. They got a rhythm going for a few strokes, but he was too close, too close. He was right on the edge. _So_ close, but unable to make it over.

He slid his hand to her hair, drove even harder. He wanted to come so badly, but something held him back. Something not complete, something …

“Come now, Anthony,” Elias instructed, and just that fast he was coming, coming in long spurts, deep in Raven’s perfect skilled mouth, coming over and over until he was completely spent, exhausted.

He opened his eyes. He hadn’t been aware that he’d closed them, but when he opened them Elias was still watching him. His hand was under the sheet. He was stroking his own erection lazily.

Even as the woman removed her gifted mouth from his cock, Anthony felt himself growing hard again.

  ***

The woman rolled easily to her feet. Elias didn’t speak, just sat up and held his hand out, and she sat down beside him on the bed. While Anthony watched, still dazed, Carl kissed her deeply. But she must taste like … his knees went weak.

That couldn’t be a mistake. Elias was kissing the woman either in spite of the fact that she tasted like Anthony’s cum or because of it. And either way, either way …

“Take your clothes off,” Carl murmured against her mouth.

She already had her clothes off, except for his shirt – oh. Belatedly, Marconi realized that the boss had been talking to _him_. He peeled his jacket off quickly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman, off Elias. They were all over each other, kissing and touching. Carl’s fingers in her hair, cupping the back of her head, and his other hand on her hip, stroking that smooth flank. Raven raked her nails lightly down his back, leaving faint white marks. Her other hand was wrapped around his cock. It was stiff, thick, red against her slender white fingers, impressively hard for a man who’d come just a few minutes before. But hell, Anthony was hard already, too. He pulled his t-shirt over his head. It was the situation, he decided. Nothing got a man going like watching another man get off, and especially with a woman like Raven.

There was something about the woman that made him just want to fuck her. And Elias would let him. This wasn’t going to be like the last time …

Marconi stopped dead. _Like the last time_. The memory came flooding back. The last time, the only time he’d ever come close to having a three-way. It hadn’t been the same, he’d only been a teenager, he didn’t even know what he was doing and neither did Frankie Turner … but the woman had known, had been skilled beyond all reason and they’d been stupid enough to think that they’d gotten impossibly lucky or that they were just too hot to resist, that she was interested in them, that she was willing to teach them ...and it had … she had …

He’d tried for years to forget about it.

But this woman – she was just like that one.

_Just_ like that one.

Elias groaned in pleasure as Raven pumped his straining cock with both hands.

Anthony reached up and touched the silver crucifix that hung around his neck. It was small, elegant, but not delicate. Distinctly masculine. It had been a gift. From Elias.

If he was wrong, Carl was going to be pissed. Really pissed, and his chance of ever getting him in bed again were gone. Hell, his chances of surviving weren’t even very good.

Elias cried out and came in a long spurt, and then another, and then another. Far, far more than a second climax should have produced. The woman threw her head back and laughed in delight, and Carl surged forward to nip at her bare throat.

Marconi felt his cock throb again with desire. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and all he wanted was to cover her, enter her, take her, and he could, he could and then Carl could and then he could again and …

Elias was gasping for air, his face red, but he wasn’t backing away, he wanted more …

“Damn it!” Marconi swore under his breath. He slipped the crucifix’ chain over his head and concealed it in his palm. Then he strode to the side of the bed and pushed the woman onto her back.

She laughed again and Elias chuckled in encouragement. “Pants, Anthony,” he said.

With great difficulty, Marconi ignored him. He straddled the woman’s hips, held her shoulder down with one hand, and slapped the crucifix in his hand against her forehead with the other. “The power of Christ compels you!” he shouted.

“Marconi!” Elias grabbed his arm and tugged, hard.

“Boss, you gotta trust me.”

He kept his hand wrapped around Anthony’s forearm, but he stopped pulling him. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“She’s dangerous, Boss. She’s trying to kill you.” He glanced at him quickly. “I know this sounds crazy, but she’s dangerous.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not armed, Anthony,” Elias said. His voice was suddenly soft. That was dangerous, and Marconi knew it better than most. “Let her go. Right now.”

Anthony wanted to. He really did, for a couple of reasons. First, because Elias had told him to and he didn’t want to make him unhappy, to defy him, ever, and partly because despite everything, his cock was still raging in his unzipped jeans. He was pressed against the woman’s body, and though she was perfectly still, he could feel the heat of her soaking into him. He wanted her, he wanted her so badly …

… but she would kill Elias if he gave in. “I won’t let her kill you,” he said, choking on his own desire.

“Anthony.” Elias pulled at his arm again. His voice was very soft now. Very dangerous.

“It’s alright,” Raven said unexpectedly. She reached up and put her hand over Elias’ wrist. Marconi noted the smear of white across her thumb, and it took everything in him not to lean down and lick it away. She didn’t try to restrain Elias. She was trying to comfort him. “It’s okay.”

Carl’s face, which had been flatly furious, softened into a smile.

_Because I’m right_ , Marconi thought wildly, _about what she is, and there’s proof of it right there_. “Take your hand off him.” He shifted his grip on the crucifix. “The power of Christ … “

“Stop,” she said softly, and he did, because he had to. Because he had no choice.

“Two things,” Raven said, calmly, sweetly. “One, I was very old when your Christ was still in the manger. So while I honor His teachings and respect His true followers, He doesn’t actually ‘compel’ me in anything.”

He couldn’t look away from her, but Marconi felt Elias bristle beside him.

“And two, my sweet boy, unless you’ve received absolution since last Tuesday, you’re in no spiritual condition to invoke His protection anyhow.”

She wasn’t wrong about that, of course. Last Tuesday had been the Gibson deal. Marconi moved his hand, dropped the crucifix on the bedside table and picked up the gun instead. He placed it under her chin.

“Anthony,” Elias said. But his voice was louder, less certain. Less dangerous.

Raven turned her head to look at him. “He’s not wrong, Carl. I am dangerous, at times. As you are, and he is. But I swear that I mean no harm, to either of you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Marconi said flatly. “I know how your kind works. I know what you want from him. Us.”

“Anthony …” Elias. Gentle.

She fixed her dark eyes back on him. “I’m only here for dessert.”

It was hard to think clearly when she looked at him. Only the fact that Carl was right there, naked and vulnerable, kept him focused. “What?”

“I’m not hunting. I’m not hungry. Harold and his friend keep me exquisitely well-fed. I am only here for a bit of dessert. A change of pace. A pleasant evening of something new, nothing more. Beyond a bit of lost sleep, I will not harm either of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Anthony,” Elias said. “What’s going on?”

“She’s a … predator,” he managed to answer. “A killer.” It sounded absurd even in his own ears. She was a smallish woman, naked in bed with two of the most ruthless killers in the city. He understood why Elias couldn’t believe she was any threat. And that was before he counted the irresistible urge he had to fuck her. He knew Elias felt that, too.

“Harold sent her to us,” Carl said. “You really think she’s here to kill us?”

At least Elias believed him that she was dangerous. Good, that was good. He might be able to save him after all. Marconi felt relief wash through him like a cold splash. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Raven said again.

“I know what you are,” Marconi repeated. “I know what you do. I won’t let you hurt him.”

“Anthony …”

“Elias, _please_.” He glanced at him again. He was still naked, still so vulnerable. Still so very desirable. Anthony felt his cock jump. “Please. Get away from her. Please.”

Elias looked at him, then at the woman. She was still motionless, small. And she was insanely desirable.

But his boss trusted him. With his life, on a daily basis. Marconi could have wept with relief when, against all odd and all logic, Elias rolled away from the woman, stood up on the far side of the bed, and put on his robe. “Explain this to me, Anthony.”

Elias was willing to listen, but now Marconi couldn’t begin to put it into words. Not sane words, anyhow. Not words that anyone would believe. “I … she’s …”

“You’re not going to shoot her in my bed,” Elias said mildly. “Let her up.”

He thought about it. Then he retreated carefully, released her and stood up himself. His pants were still unzipped, and his cock still bulged, but he didn’t want to put the gun down to adjust. Priorities.

Raven remained where she was, sprawled naked on Elias’ bed, wearing only his unbuttoned shirt.

“Are you dangerous?” Elias asked her quietly.

“Yes.”

“As dangerous as Anthony thinks you are?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not here to hurt us.”

“No.”

Marconi looked at him. Elias’ face was very calm, still. He was taking the danger seriously. He believed him. _Good_.

“Whatever it is about you,” Elias continued carefully, “that’s causing my friend such anxiety on my behalf, does Harold know about it?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t send you to hurt us?”

Raven shook her head. “He sent me to you for protection. Exactly as he said. Everything that happened after dinner was my idea. Or … yours. He did not send me to your bed.”

“But he didn’t object.”

“He knows I will not harm you.”

Elias shook his head. “Anthony. What’s going on?”

Again, the words failed. _She’s a witch_ , Anthony thought. _Yes, say that. That doesn’t sound at all insane. But not a witch, exactly. Some kind of sex vampire. Yeah, that sounds better. Say something, idiot, before he climbs back into bed …_

“I can show you,” Raven offered.

“What?” both men said in unison.

She sat up slowly, careful not to make any alarming moves, put her feet on the floor, and stood up. “Come with me. I’ll show you.” Raven walked to the door. Then she paused, looked back. “Leave the gun,” she said. “You can bring the knife if you want.”

Marconi stared at her.

“Anthony,” Elias said quietly. “She’s not armed.” He raised an eyebrow, and Marconi read it perfectly: _She’s one small woman. She’s no match for the two of us._

He put the gun down, picked up the knife, and followed her out of the bedroom.

Raven walked directly to the wine closet at the far side of the kitchen. She unlocked it, slipped behind the gate, then closed it and reached through to lock it behind her.

“Raven?” Elias asked, “what are you doing?”

“Can you open that?’ she answered.

He tugged at the gate. It was locked tight, and she had the key inside with her. “No.”

“Good.” She stepped back. “This is what your sweet Anthony is afraid of.”

 ***


	3. Chapter 3

Carl Elias was not sure exactly where the evening had jumped the tracks so badly.

He didn’t like not being sure.

He’d been making love to a beautiful woman. She was Harold’s woman, but he had his bookish friend’s blessing, and she was certainly willing. Then Anthony had kicked the door open – awkward, but they’d gotten past that quickly enough. Raven had invited him to join them, and impossibly Anthony had agreed, and then …

Marconi was tough right to his core. But he was frightened now, genuinely frightened. Elias took that very seriously. Above all, his lieutenant protected him. And if Anthony thought that he needed to cock-block his boss at gunpoint to protect him – then the woman really was dangerous.

But Elias couldn’t begin to imagine how or why. Or why Harold would have sent her to him.

He didn’t know what he expected to happen when she locked herself in his wine closet. It was a relief, though. If she was having some kind of a break-down, or if Anthony was, at least she was safely locked away from them.

He looked at Marconi. The man didn’t seem any happier to have her locked up. He looked miserable. And still fearful. Not afraid for himself – Elias didn’t think he even had that ability. Afraid for _him_. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“If I meant to harm you,” Raven announced, “I’d have appeared to you like this.”

They both looked at her. She turned around. When she turned back, she had – changed.

Elias had a split instant to think that it was impossible. That it was completely unreasonable, unrealistic, that this just couldn’t happen. The next second the power hit him like a tidal wave and all he could think about was _I have to get to her I have to get to her I have to fuck her I’ll die if I can’t fuck her._

He yanked at the gate as hard as he could. Beside him, he half-registered that Marconi was doing the same. That both of them were shouting, screaming, doing everything they could to pull that gate down. “The gun,” he panted. They could shoot the lock, they could shoot their way in there and they could get her out and they could …

Raven didn’t bother to turn around again. She simply _changed_ somehow, back to the rather plain woman she had been before. 

The desperation receded. Elias released his grip the gate and stepped back. He looked at his hands. His palms were red and one was bleeding a little. His bare feet hurt; he’d been kicking at the gate, too. His arms and shoulders ached. He was panting for air.

Marconi was the same.

“What the fuck was that?” Elias demanded.

“I don’t know. But I’ve seen one like her before.”

He turned to the gate. “What the fuck are you?” he said.

Raven shrugged. “I’m old,” she said simply. “Really, really old.”

She didn’t look old. She stood there in his unbuttoned shirt and she looked about thirty, at most. She was smooth and pretty. He remembered the feel of her, the taste, the sound. He knew that body. And it was nothing like – whatever she’d turned into.

He could hardly remember. She’d been slender, taller. Paler skin. Darker hair, darker eyes. Like one of those elves from that movie. Hugo Weaving. He liked Hugo Weaving. He played a good badass.

_Focus, Elias._ He shook his head to clear it. Raven wasn’t an elf. He didn’t know what she was, but he was damn sure she wasn’t an elf. He looked to Anthony again. “What was that?”

Marconi still looked miserable, though he was less afraid now. _Because he knows I believe him_. “I don’t know, Boss.”

“You’ve seen her before?”

“Not her. But one like her. When I was a kid. A teenager.” He looked at the woman again. “She killed my friend.”

“I’m sorry,” Raven said. She sounded sincerely.

“That’s how I knew,” Marconi continued, “I had to get her away from you.”

Elias nodded slowly. He’d caught his breath mostly; his pulse was down to a dull roar in his ears. His cock was only half-erect. He tugged at his robe. “You wanted her as much as I did. But you still pulled me out of there.” He cupped one hand along Anthony’s jawline. “You’re a stronger man than I am.”

Marconi looked away and down, and Elias let his hand drop. He’d been too forward. Too obvious. Just because the man had been willing to join in a three-way with a woman neither of them could resist didn’t mean he was interested in anything one-on-one with Carl.

“Had to protect you, Boss,” the lieutenant muttered. “Whatever it takes.”

Elias nodded, disappointed but understanding. He looked back to the woman. She waited at the back of the wine closet, patient and calm. “You said you didn’t mean to hurt us.”

“I don’t.”

“But when you’re like that …” he gestured vaguely, “… we couldn’t resist you. We would just …” He couldn’t even come up with the right words.

“You would give me your life force, if I wanted it,” Raven answered. “You would give it joyously. Unresisting. All of it.”

“Until we died.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t want that.”

“No.”

“Harold knows what you are.”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t send you to kill us.”

Raven cocked her head. “If Harold wanted you dead, surely he would not have sent _me_.”

_No_ , Carl thought, _he would have sent John_. But this woman as a weapon – it was a staggering possibility. She could get next to any man. Maybe women, too. She could kill without leaving a mark, then simply walk away wearing a different face. There was no defense against her, if she changed like she had. No one would even try to resist her. No one could. She was the perfect assassin.

In the next breath, he realized why it wouldn’t work. An assassin, or any other weapon, was only valuable if it could be controlled. Elias could make people into weapons thought fear, or through greed. He could outsmart some of them. In a few very limited cases, he could win their loyalty. In Anthony he had won not only loyalty but friendship. But Marconi was one of a kind.

There was nothing Elias had that would control this woman. She had submitted to him sexually, but he’d known all along that it was only because she wanted to. She was no one’s weapon, except by her choice.

He would never have been able to trust her.

Elias put his hands in his robe pockets and considered. “The old man knows, too. What you are. That’s why he wanted you.”

“Yes.”

“But you like to choose your own prey.”

She shook her head. “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

“You said Harold keeps you fed.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She shook her head again and for the first time did not answer.

“And my friend and I are just … dessert. If you really wanted to kill us, we never would have had a chance to resist.”

“Yes.”

It all seemed perfectly logical to Elias. But he looked to Marconi as the expert. “Well?”

Anthony hesitated for a very long moment. ”Hard to argue,” he finally said. “The other one … was like she was before. There wasn’t any way to stop. We didn’t even try.”

“Why didn’t she kill you, too?”

Marconi looked away. “I don’t know.”

“The blood knows its own,” Raven answered. “He carries a drop or two.”

“I do?” Anthony sounded genuinely surprised.

She nodded, smiling. “Have you never noticed that many desire you, and none can deny you?”

“Not really, no.”

“I have,” Elias said. Marconi’s head snapped around. Carl focused on the gate; he tugged on it, checked that it was still solidly locked. ‘Do it again.”

Raven frowned. “What?”

“I’ve never seen anything like that. Like you. Do it again. Just once. Please?”

She didn’t bother to turn around this time. She simply changed.

_That is amaz_ … was as far as Elias’ conscious thoughts got before he was suddenly drowning in lust again. It was like a drug, like the best drug ever. Or the worst. He could think of nothing but how much he wanted her. To pleasure her, with tongue or fingers or cock. He wanted wanted wanted and it was delicious perfect torment and if he had to die to please her so be it …

Then she was the ordinary woman again and he dropped away from the gate, breathless and shaken and thrilled.

Beside him, Anthony was panting as well. He pulled his hands off the gate and rubbed them together.

“Okay,” Elias breathed. He stepped back from the gate. “Come on out.”

Raven hesitated, then came to the gate and passed him the key. He opened it, held it while she stepped back into the kitchen, then closed it quietly behind her.

“I apologize for the unpleasantness,” he said. “It was an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“My fault entirely,” Raven assured him. “I am not in the habit of disclosing my true nature to casual acquaintances.” She put her hand on Marconi’s arm. “If I had known I would be recognized, I would have settled for the ice cream. I am sorry to have caused you alarm.”

The lieutenant had his arms folded over his bare chest, his face turned partly away. But he glanced up at her, nodded briefly. “I might have overreacted.”

“No,” Elias said firmly. “You saw a threat. You protected me. As you always do.” He looked to the woman. “We’ll take you home when you’re ready.”

“I’ll get dressed.” Raven turned.

Anthony’s hand shot out and caught hers. He kept looking at the floor, took a couple deep breaths. Then he looked up again. Swallowed. Elias couldn’t remember ever seeing his lieutenant so unsure. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “The boss makes wicked good breakfast crepes.”

Carl stared at him. So did the woman.

“If you want to stay,” Anthony continued, “I won’t pull any more weapons on you. Unless you try to kill us. I promise.”

Raven looked to him. Elias considered. He didn’t know what she was, precisely. He did know that she was dangerous as hell. But so was he, and so was Marconi. The night that had turned to disaster had turned again. As impossible as it seemed, maybe a night with her and Anthony wasn’t out of reach. “If you want to go, I would understand completely. But I would be glad to make you breakfast, too.” She seemed to be thinking it over. “Crepes, I know they’re French, but I am really good at them.”

She reached out her free hand to him. She drew him close, and Marconi too. She leaned and kissed Anthony deeply. Then she turned and kissed him. Her lips parted his and her tongue danced hungrily around his mouth. The sensation ran straight to his cock and her felt himself grow hard under his robe. He moved closer, put his arm behind her back and found Anthony’s already there. He looked up. Marconi was right there, close enough to kiss as well. Carl didn’t, though he wanted to. Instead he turned the woman back to his friend.

Raven laughed in delight. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Elias said.

“Yeah,” Marconi agreed.

She led the two of them back to the bedroom.

 ***

“How do you want to do this?” the woman asked quietly.

Marconi looked to his boss, prepared to let him chose, as always, but Elias was looking at him. “Anything you like, Anthony.”

He felt a little light-headed for a moment. That never happened to him. Anything he’d like? Anything he’d like was completely out of the question, even now _. If I knew what I’d like you’d fire me – or kill me._ But he could get close. Closer than he’d ever dared to hope. “Would you …”

His voice failed. That never happened to him, either.

Raven kissed him, deep and slow, and it was as if her tongue gave his voice hack. He put his rough hands on her slender waist. She was smooth, warm. His cock throbbed, reminded him that he still had his jeans on. He wanted to fuck her, and he knew he could. But there was something he wanted more. “Would you take him, in your mouth? Like you did me?”

Behind her, Elias grunted in surprise and maybe in disapproval. Anthony looked up, anxious. “Her mouth is amazing, Boss.”

“I could tell.” It wasn’t disapproval he’d heard, Marconi realized. It was growling arousal.

“It would be my pleasure,” Raven promised. She turned to Elias, took his face between her hands, and kissed him deeply as well. Anthony watched, fascinated, as his broad hands slipped his shirt off her shoulders, caressed over her back and down to cup her ass. She really did have a perfect ass, curvy rather than flat. He licked his lips. His jeaned, even unzipped, were way too tight.

The woman moved, led Elias to the head of the bed, and untied his robe. Marconi watched, dry-mouthed, as she ran her nailed lightly through the hair on his broad chest. His own fingertips tingled, imagining how that must feel. Carl didn’t hesitate to shuck out of the robe. If he was bothered by being naked in front of him again, he didn’t show it. Maybe he was just too distracted by the woman.

His cock was thick and fully hard.

Raven urged him onto the bed. He sat up against the headboard with his legs outstretched. She knelt between his knees and fondled his cock with both hands.

Marconi moved quietly to the head of the bed so he could watch more closely. Raven’s slender fingers reached down to cup Elias’ heavy balls, and Anthony swore he felt the touch on his own body. He raised his eyes to his boss’ face, watched the man’s eyes roll up in pleasure. He wasn’t embarrassed to be watched. It made it better for him.

Just like it had for Marconi.

“Clothes,” Elias muttered. He waved vaguely.

“Right, Boss.” Marconi scooted his jeans down over his hips.

“Not your boss here,” Carl repeated. He grunted sharply when Raven did a slick slid-and-twist thing with her hand over the crown of his erection. “Just a suggestion.” He grunted a second time. “Makes fucking so much easier.”

Anthony had his jeans to his ankles before he realized he still had his boots on. Carefully, trying not to disturb the others, he sat on the edge of the bed to take them off.

Raven bent forward from the waist and slid her mouth around Elias’ straining cock. He bucked once, hard. His hand darted out and grabbed Marconi’s bare arm.

It felt electric, his touch. Like touching a taser sent on low; it sent a little shock of pleasure through Anthony’s body. He was careful not to pull away as he kicked his boots and then his jeans off. He was still wearing his briefs. They were black. All of his briefs were black; he liked the way the color went with the dark hair on his body.

That sounded ridiculous, feminine. He had a better explanation at hand, in case he needed one: That black briefs could go in the washer with his jeans. But the truth was that he liked the way they showed off the package.

He glanced at Elias. The boss was staring at his crotch, and from the look in his eyes, he agreed with that idea.

Marconi’s cock twitched. The briefs were old, kind of stretched out, but they were way too tight for his erection to be comfortable in them.

Elias bucked again, and Anthony realized that the glossy passion in the man’s eyes wasn’t for the sight of his erection, but for the things the woman was doing with her mouth. He sighed, a little disappointed in spite of himself.

And then, impossibly, Carl released his elbow and brushed his hand lightly over the crotch of his briefs. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

He pulled his hand away and dropped it onto the woman’s hair.

The electric and light-headed feelings converged in Marconi’s head. Elias wasn’t gay; he’d never shown any interest in men. But this encounter wasn’t just about the woman, either. Carl wanted _him_ here, not just as another man but Anthony in specific. That was more than he’d hoped for. A lot more. Because if Carl wanted him, and only him, then it was okay that he wanted Carl, too. Wasn’t it?

He needed to be careful. He needed to not give away too much. To give away how much he wanted his boss. How often he’d thought about him, especially alone at night, in bed or in the shower or in the front seat of the SUV while he watched someone for him. He couldn’t let that show. Couldn’t let himself get out of control.

But he didn’t have to totally avoid touching him, either.

It was going to be tricky.

Raven slowed down her pace. She’d been going hard, bouncing her head in Elias’ lap as she took his cock deep and then sucked her way off, but now she slowed, let him catch his breath. He groaned in contentment, looked at Anthony again. “You’re not wrong.”

“Told you so.” He came up with a little half-smile, and Elias gave him one back.

“Condoms in the drawer.” He gestured.

“I can wait.” A few more minutes, anyhow; he was enjoying the show.

“I don’t want you to wait. I want to you take her now.”

Anthony stood up and damn near fainted. He wasn’t surprised anymore; as hard as his cock was, he didn’t think any blood was making it to his brain. He peeled off his briefs. He didn’t let himself look toward Elias, because if the boss was looking at his cock he might blow right there. Instead he fumbled in the drawer for a condom.

There were plenty in there, and a bottle of lube, too. That didn’t surprise him either, somehow. He was a dry rub guy himself, usually using just a little spit and then pre-cum to slick himself to jack off. But he expected Elias to be a little more refined. The boss probably took his time about it. He liked to savor things …

“Anthony …” Elias groaned.

Marconi snapped out of his thoughts and opened the wrapped quickly. He moved to the end of the bed before he put the condom on; his hands were shaking and he didn’t want Elias to see it. But then, the boss might have chalked that up to arousal, and he wouldn’t have been entirely wrong.

Raven continued her maddeningly slow teasing of Elias’ cock with her mouth, but she moved up to her knees, so that her ass was in the air, inviting. Marconi had no inclination to decline that invitation. He knelt on the bed between her feet and put one hand on the side of her perfect ass. With the other, he traced his fingers down the crack of her ass and all the way to her clit.

She whimpered around Elias’ cock, and he whimpered in response.

She was already wet, more than ready. Marconi pressed the head of his cock against her cunt and waited. Raven made a sound of protest and pressed back against him. He slid inside her an inch, then drew back, denying her more penetration. When she complained wordlessly again, he put both hands on her hips, held her still, and pressed forward, slow and smooth and deep.

The woman gripped him tightly and came in gentle waves around his cock. Marconi bit his lip and held on.

Whatever her climax caused her to do with her mouth, Elias thrashed in pleasure. Anthony moved his hands from Raven’s hips to Carl’s outstretched calves and held them down, hard. The man made a noise he’d never heard before. Desperate and full of pleasure. “Yeah,” he said, to all of them, “yeah.”

“Please, Anthony,” Elias answered. “Please fuck her now. Please.”

He couldn’t control the wolfish grin. “Well, when you put it that way, Boss.” He drew back and thrust, slow and easy. Raven bucked back against him, then moved forward, taking Elias’ cock deep in her throat. She began to rock between them. Anthony felt the way Carl’s legs tightened and relaxed beneath his hands with every stroke. His whole body. He loved the feeling of restraining him, and he could tell the boss did, too.

Elias put one hand on the woman’s back, the other on her head. “C’mon,” he said. “Oh. G------.”

Marconi squeezed his hands down on Elias’ calves, and slammed his hips into Raven’s ass. He felt her come again, harder this time. Carl’s hips came up and he came, too; the woman made a little gasping noise, then swallowed and kept on sucking until the boss whimpered for her to stop.

He still hadn’t come. He knew now what he was waiting for. He eased out of the woman, ran his hands up her sides to draw her upright, then gently turned her around. She was light and flexible and she understood without words what he wanted. She turned and knelt with her knees on either side of his, then slowly lowered herself again onto his throbbing cock. He wanted to be inside her, to feel that slick hot grab. But he wanted her mouth, too.

He wanted to taste Elias.

He leaned to kiss her, and she opened for him, letting his tongue explore and gather every remaining drop of Carl’s cum. Letting him taste and revel in it, letting him groan against her in ecstasy.

Her hips moved, taking and retreating, working him. It was too much. It was all too much, and he had to lift his mouth away, throw his head toward the ceiling and howl like some animal with how good it all was.

And then it got impossibly better.

Because then Carl was behind her, kneeling to press against her back, and his hands reached around her to grip Anthony’s biceps, to squeeze and pull him closer. The woman surged against him, riding him harder. Marconi thrust up from his knees to meet her. He was so close, so impossibly fucking close …

He opened his eyes and looked directly into Elias’. His glasses were off and he looked so wonderfully naked and so very connected somehow. He was right there, inches away, just over Raven’s shoulder. He could just lean in and kiss him …

Anthony threw his head back and closed his eyes again.

The strong hands left his biceps and he grieved their absence. Then those same strong fingers stroked his collar bone, his throat. His jawline. His chin. And then those perfect beloved fingers traced along his lips. The woman thrust harder, gripping around his ravaged cock, and he opened his mouth in desperation, gave up and sucked those fingers between his lips. Sucked hard, because it was as close as he could ever get, his only chance, his only …

“C’mon,” Elias growled in encouragement. “Let me see it.”

Marconi couldn’t open his eyes. Couldn’t look at his boss. Couldn’t let himself believe that is was _his_ pleasure Elias wanted to see. But he sucked the fingers deeper into his mouth and held them between his teeth, hard enough to ensure that they’d be there when he … when he …

Elias’ fingers in his mouth and the other hand suddenly, impossibly, wonderfully, closed over his balls. Not hard, not rough, but firm and big and strong and Anthony surged upward into Raven’s welcoming body, surged and bit down on those magnificent fingers and climaxed so hard he saw stars behind his closed eyelids.

As he came down to thrust again, Elias squeezed his testicles and he exploded a second time, just as hard. Raven came with him, wringing him with her smooth muscles, and though he desperately wanted to keep those fingers he had to open his mouth and shout as he spurted a third time.

The fingers went away. Anthony felt his head rock forward and then his mouth was on Raven’s again and she was kissing him deeply, her tongue seeking to reclaim what he’d taken, and then she pulled away, turned her head aside and he slipped further forward and met Elias’ mouth instead and that was even better, even better, his tongue fiercely battling with Carl’s, both strong and heavy, lips hared, cheeks scratchy. His hands scrambled up to grab Elias’ shoulders, to cup the back of his head and make the kiss go on and on, and even then he was thrusting and coming and Carl was gently cupping his balls until they were spent and empty and his body finally stopped its convulsive movement and relaxed.

The hand drew away slowly, and then the mouth.

They stared at each other over Raven’s shoulder. The woman was limp between them, utterly spent and completely satisfied. Anthony eased his grip on Elias’ head, and then on his shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to let go completely. He couldn’t read the other man’s expression, couldn’t tell if he was repulsed or just surprised. His lips tingled like they were going to swell and bruise. He tried to lick them, but he had no spit left.

Elias said, very quietly, “Here, let me get that for you.” He leaned forward and traced his tongue over Anthony’s lips.

Marconi felt his mouth drop open. Before the other man could retreat, he moved in and kissed him one more time.

Elias sat back a little and they stared at each other, utterly speechless.

No one moved for several minutes. Then Raven stirred between them. She looked at Anthony, and then she turned her head to look at Carl. “About damn time,” she announced. She eased herself off Marconi’s cock and stood up unsteadily on the bed. Then she stepped out from between them. “I need a drink,” she announced into their silence. She walked to the edge of the bed, hopped down and left the bedroom.

Anthony and Carl remained where they were, kneeling naked on the bed, facing each other. Facing themselves.

Marconi looked down. The other man’s knees were just outside his, touching them on each side. Elias’s knees were very pale.

He took the condom off, tied it and tossed it away. He took his time. It gave him something to do while he tried to think. It didn’t help, though. He still couldn’t think. That first kiss could be explained as heat of the moment, maybe. The second one, not so much. The fingers in his mouth, the hand on his balls … he was lost. “Sorry, Boss,” he finally managed to say. “I just got … carried away.”

“I’m not your boss,” Elias said.

Anthony looked up sharply.

“Not here, not in bed. I’m not your boss.”

His eyes were serious, but also gentle. Worried. Marconi felt his heartbeat steady under his gaze. “Okay,” he managed to answer.

“So,” Elias continued, “if you never want to do this again, so be it. We’ll never speak of it. Pretend it never happened. I will not be offended. It’s your choice.”

Anthony felt like he had a knife between his ribs. There was a definite, specific pain in his left side.

“On the other hand, if you’d like to do this again, with another woman, I would certainly be amenable.”

The knife withdrew, and Anthony gasped.

“If it needs to be _that_ woman,” Elias gestured toward the door, “I’ll persuade her to stay. Even if that means I have to lock her in the wine closet.”

“Harold won’t like that.”

“I don’t care what Harold likes,” Carl replied simply. “I care what _you_ like.”

_What I like is kissing you_ , Anthony thought. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. The warmth in Elias’ eyes, in his voice, was making his brain fuzzy. What if he was still reading the signals wrong?

He couldn’t afford to make a mistake now.

“I meant what I said,” Carl went on. “I’m not your boss here. I’m your friend, I hope. Your … Anthony.” His voice cracked, and he paused. He licked his lips. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, B – Carl. I got it.” Maybe he wasn’t misreading this after all. Maybe not making a move was the mistake.

Elias nodded. “Well.” His eyes were sad, but understanding. He put his hands on his bare thighs, preparing to move. “Well, then.”

Marconi still wasn’t certain. But he’d never been timid; he’d rather take action, maybe be wrong and face the consequences than do nothing. Especially when it was important, when it was life or death. This was more important even than that. _Now or never_. He licked his own lips. “What about …”

“What?”

“Without … her.” He could barely get the words out. He’d decided, committed to this action, but hope and terror battled in his chest and smothered him. “Without …”

It seemed like Elias’ cheeks went a little pink. “Without a woman between us?” he asked carefully.

Marconi couldn’t even answer. The terror was winning. He’d been wrong. _Fuck_. He just nodded.

“If that’s …” Elias hesitated. “I wouldn’t ask you … if it wasn’t …”

_Maybe not wrong._ Anthony gathered up all his courage, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to his boss’ again.

Elias didn’t resist, but he didn’t respond either. “You don’t have to …” he whispered against his mouth.

It was one last chance to back out. To save face. One last exit. He didn’t take it. “I want to,” Anthony managed to whisper back.

Carl tilted his head just a little, leaned in and kissed him back. No retreat. His lips parted; his tongue teased at Marconi’s. It was very gentle, sweet, for a split instant. Then the restraints fell away from both of them. They lunged together, frantic. Anthony got his arms around the man – finally, finally! – pulled him close and kissed him hard and deep. He felt Elias’ arms circle over his, one almost brutally tight across his back, the other around his neck. He couldn’t have pulled back if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to.

They both came up onto their knees. Arms shifted, grips changed. They were pressed together now from the bed to their lips. Elias’ skin was very warm, almost hot to the touch, and exactly as firm beneath as Anthony had always thought it would be. They were both a little sweaty, a little sticky, and definitely smelled like men in rut. That just made it better. So much better. It was so different than holding a woman. Marconi loved every difference.

The hair on their chests merged as they ground together. Anthony shifted his hips a little, so that their cocks touched. That was different, too, and good. But both of them were soft now, and baring some kind of miracle, that situation wasn’t going to change for a while. He moaned in soft disappointment. He finally had Elias in his arms and he was too spent to do anything more than kiss him.

“Maybe just as well,” Elias murmured, as if he knew what he was thinking. He often did. “Give you time to reconsider.”

“I don’t want to reconsider,” Marconi protested.

Carl pulled back just enough to look in his eyes. “Good.” And then, “C’mere.”

They shifted, finally released each other enough to lie down on the bed. Elias immediately turned toward him and pulled him back into his arms. They kissed again, more gently this time. The fierce urgency was gone, at least for the moment. This was almost tender. But there were still the hard arms, the manly scent. Anthony groaned again, in want and contentment.

Elias stroked his hands through his hair. “If you knew how long I’ve wanted to do just this,” he said softly. He pressed his lips to the scar on the side of his face. “And this.” More soft kisses across his forehead.

“Why didn’t you, then?” Anthony asked.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” the boss said simply. “So much _machissimo_ , so many pretty women.” He stroked his fingers over Marconi’s cheekbone. “Every time I looked at you, you looked away.”

He felt his cheeks go hot. “I didn’t want you to think …”

“What?” Elias prompted when his words fell off.

It was still hard to talk when Carl looked into his eyes. He dropped his gaze to his shoulder. There was a little scar there, too, faint and white with age. Round, like a burn perhaps. He couldn’t resist; he leaned and pressed his lips to it reverently. “You trust me to protect you. You need to know that I’m strong. That’s the most important thing in my life, that trust. I didn’t want you to … to doubt that.”

“You thought I’d think you were weak if we did this? That you were some kind of nancy-boy?”

He still couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes. “Well, yeah.”

“Even though I’d be doing the same thing? Would it make me seem weak to you?”

“No, but …” Marconi finally managed to glance up, and he was very relieved to find amusement in Carl’s eyes. “I figured you’d be on top.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“Yeah.”

Elias laughed out loud. Then he kissed his forehead again. “My sweet Anthony. Whatever we do here, or don’t do, know this: I will never doubt your strength. I will never worry that you’re not strong enough or ruthless enough to protect me. I will always rely on you, exactly as I have. And as for who tops,” he paused and kissed his partner lingeringly, “I’m willing to discuss it, to bend to your preferences, but on my own, I like to switch.”

“Switch?” Marconi had some sense of what he meant, but he wanted to be sure.

“Sometimes top, sometimes bottom. We’ll try it out, if you’re willing. See what works for us.” Elias paused. “But I mean what I said, Anthony. I’m not your boss here. You don’t want to do something, you say so. You want to stop entirely, we stop. What goes on in this bed, it’s got nothing to do with what goes on in our business. Or our friendship. You understand?”

“Yeah.” Anthony’s comfort grew with every word the man said. He couldn’t imagine why Elias would think he’d ever want to stop. But it seemed important that he agree, so he did. He didn’t need to persuade him right now. He could show him later.

They shifted again; Elias stretched out on his back and Anthony curled against his side. Their legs were tangled together. His cock was pressed against Carl’s hip. But beyond a warm tingle of desire, nothing was happening there.

Elias ran his hand through his hair, smoothing out the tangles from earlier. “In ancient Rome,” he said idly, “generals frequently took their lieutenants to their beds. They thought it improved communication, cohesion in the command ranks.”

Beyond the open bedroom door, they both heard the gate of the wine closet close, then the soft tinkle of a wine glass being taken off the rack.

Marconi looked up at him skeptically. “Is that really true?”

“No,” Elias admitted. “I just made it up. But it sounded good.”

“It did sound good,” he agreed. “You know, B-Carl – if _you_ want to end this, it’s not going to change anything either. I’d still take a bullet for you.”

“I know, Anthony. I know.”

They were quiet for a time. Carl’s fingers continued to run through Anthony’s hair, to trace along his neck and his ear. “I wish we could seal this deal,” he mused. “I would like to end this night making love to you.”

Marconi nodded. “I don’t think I’ve got one left in the chamber.”

“No. I’m out, too.” He shifted a little. “The girl didn’t hurt us, but she surely took it out of us. Gonna take a while to reload.”

“Maybe …” Anthony said thoughtfully. He lifted his head suddenly. “We could …”

“What?”

“Raven,” he called out.

Elias got it, just that fast. He chuckled. “You sure?”

“Are you?”

The woman came to the doorway. She had a glass of wine, rose, in her hand. She didn’t seem at all surprised to find them still naked and entwined. She was still naked, too, and utterly unconcerned about it. “Gentlemen?”

“Could you …” Marconi began.

“We know it’s not …” Elias tried to continue.

“One more round? The least I can do,” she answered graciously, “for all you’ve done for me.” She climbed onto the end of the bed and knelt at their feet. She took a long drink of wine, then held the glass out to them. “Drink.”

They half-sat up together, both leaning on their elbows. Elias took the glass and sipped, then held it to Anthony’s mouth. The wine was sweet and light; he wouldn’t have liked it normally, but it was refreshing. He took a second drink. Carl held the glass out to Raven, but she gestured and he put it on the bedside table.

She put her hand on the inside of his calf, and the other on Elias’. Just that simple touch was enough to make his cock start to fill. She traced down to his foot, wrapped her hand firmly around it, and squeezed. She repositioned his leg so that his foot and Carl’s were wide by side. Then, unexpectedly, she bent and took both of their big toes into her mouth.

Marconi bucked hard, startled and fully aroused. He felt the girl sucking on his toe. Toes had never been a thing with him, but somehow she made it wildly erotic. Beside him, Elias had the same reaction. He turned on his side and his erect cock rubbed against Carl’s.

His breath caught. For an instant he felt like a teenager again, a beginner, wanting frantically and not knowing what to do. Like a virgin, which in some senses he was. Then Elias groaned, so deep and loud that he knew the man was as out of his mind with desire as he was. That made it okay. Technique was not a necessary thing, not this time. It wasn’t going to last. He got his hand between them, got his fingers around Carl’s cock. He’d seen it earlier, but touching was a different matter. He felt its girth, its weight. Its heat. And how his lover – _yes yes yes his lover_ – responded to his touch.

“An-thon-yyyyy,” Carl gasped. It sounded like a prayer from his lips.

“I gotcha, Boss,” he answered. He knew Elias didn’t consider himself the boss here, but that was still his favorite name for him and always would be. He stroked him the way he liked to be stroked himself, firm but not too tight. Rubbed his thumb across the crown …

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his own pleasure. But there was more pleasure in this long-delayed, long-forbidden touch than anything else he could have asked for. Or at least he thought there was, until he felt Elias’s hand close over his own cock. He jumped. Then he moaned.

It was hard to concentrate on what his hand was doing while his partner’s hand was doing the same thing. He got lost on the feel of Elias’ fingers, not long but thick and strong, the strokes, the rubs, the squeezes. His body wanted to writhe closer. His hips jerked, driving into that fist. Carl’s body moved as well. They were in perfect synch, as they so often were out on the street. His anxiety drained away with every stroke. He knew exactly what Elias wanted. It was exactly what he wanted. Thrust and stroke and squeeze, a thumb here, a fingertip there. He felt his balls begin to pull up, his whole body seem to coil.

He wanted it to last longer. But the slow burning build-up to this seemed like it had already gone on forever. And there would be time later to try other things … switch, Elias has said, and Anthony couldn’t decide which got him hotter, the idea of his boss’ cock inside him or of himself inside Carl …

He started to scream as he came, and Elias’ mouth covered his, not so much as kiss as a shared shout of triumph and joy.

 ***

They didn’t move when it was over. Elias wasn’t entirely sure he could move. He didn’t want to, anyhow. They lay perfectly still, face to face, in each other’s arms, wet with each other’s cum, not caring. He breathed deeply, inhaling Anthony’s scent, loving it.

Loving _him_.

He felt more at peace than he had in a very long time.

It might get complicated, in the morning. But for right now, all was right with the world.

Except he was a little chilly.

As if she’d read his mind, Raven was there beside the bed. He’d lost track of her after she’d bit his toe. She pulled the sheet and the comforter up over them. She picked up the wine glass and drained it, then walked to the other side of the bed, arranged the covers over Anthony, and slid in beside him.

They shifted, then settled, with Raven spooned against Marconi’s back and Anthony’s head settled on Elias’ shoulder. Their arms and legs tangled comfortably. Anthony was still awake but completely relaxed, his body slack. Carl had never seen him so unguarded. It was humbling, that he could make his tough guy feel that safe. His protector trusted him absolutely for protection.

He wasn’t wrong. Elias would do anything, anything, to keep his lover safe.

That had been true before they were lovers, and it would be true even if their physical affair ended.

He should tell him that, Carl reflected drowsily, but he probably wouldn’t. They weren’t men of many words, either of them. Anthony would understand. He would know. Although – not speaking had delayed this union a lot longer than it should have. Maybe a few words were in order, just to be sure he understood …

Elias half-lifted his head. “How did you know?” he asked.

Raven nestled closer against Anthony’s back. “How did you _not_ know?”

He relaxed back onto the pillow. She was right, of course. Someone like her, with years of experience – how many years? he wondered idly – had taken one look at the two of them and knew. It had been smoldering for a while. A long while. She’d dragged it out into the open just a little, exposed it to air, and it had burst into open flame.

He wondered if they would have gotten there by themselves. Eventually, maybe.

Maybe not.

It didn’t matter. The fire was lit now. Tomorrow he and Anthony would figure out whether they should feed it or let it burn out. Marconi seemed into it tonight, but it might be different in the cold light of day. And without the sex demon or goddess or whatever Raven was. But then again – maybe not. All the times the lieutenant had looked away, turned away, mumbled. All the times that Elias had thought he was rejecting him, not showing any interest, deliberately not picking up the clues he tried to subtly scatter – he might have been reading all of that wrong. That may have been Anthony trying to hide his own desire.

He sighed. They’d need to sort it out. 

Tomorrow, he thought, as he drifted unresisting into sleep. Tomorrow they would sort it out. Set the new terms. Tomorrow he would find the right words.

_Harold probably had the words_ …

 ***

Marconi woke gently. He remembered as he woke that Elias had slipped away from him, that he had protested and he’d murmured some words of comfort, promised that he wasn’t going far. But there were still arms around him, a warm body at his back …

He opened his eyes. The curtains were pulled, but full sunlight peeked around the edges. The room smelled wonderful, like sweet baking. Like crepes. And undeniably, like sex.

There were safe sounds from beyond the open bedroom door, Elias in the kitchen.

He wrapped his arm over Raven’s and she gave him a little squeeze. “Good morning,” she murmured against his ear.

Marconi rolled onto his back, pulled her over half on top of him. “Morning.” Even tousled and half-awake, she was beautiful. Arousal buzzed gently through his body, more a notion that anything else, not nearly strong enough to act on. His whole body ached dully. The way it did after a good work-out. Or a good fight. “You okay?”

“Good,” Raven answered. “Hungry.”

“Smells like it’s almost ready.”

“Carl said he’d bring it in.”

Elias was bringing him breakfast in bed? Marconi swallowed hard. That was – unexpected didn’t even begin to cover it. _Shit._ Not just him, he told himself, but the woman too. Elias was bringing _them_ breakfast in bed. That was a little easier to swallow, but not much. He had a sudden vision of himself lounging on the big leather couch while Elias fed him tender slices of rare steak with his bare fingers. His blood stirred, and his cock, too, He closed his eyes and breathed the vision away.

For now.

“What did you mean, last night?” he asked, when he was calm again. “About the blood?”

Raven rolled up on her elbow to look at him. She leaned to press her lips to his scar, combed her fingers through his hair. It was comfortable rather than arousing. Almost motherly. “In the time before,” she finally said, “before your Christ, long before, there were more of us. We were never very fertile, which is actually a useful trait if your species lives an unusually long time. In all my many years I’ve born less than a hundred children. Living children.”

Her voice went just a little soft, sad, and though Anthony knew that he should be startled by that revelation, that number, somehow he understood it in terms of the thousands of years she’d lived.

She shook her head, shook the moment away. “In the time before, we were able to breed with your kind. We were more fertile, in fact, with humans than we were among ourselves. And the half-bred children were beautiful beyond all reason. They had all of our abilities and none of our limitations. They could claim any man or woman they desired, but they did not require the passion to feed. And they did not live forever as we did.”

She took a deep breath. “They were exquisite, the half-born. They were gods and goddesses. Prophets. Living angels. And demons, of course.” She leaned to kiss him again; she seemed to be reassuring herself. “Humans hunted them and killed them, of course. Many of them. They were too perfect to live, too dangerous. Too unsettling. And our kind – it’s very hard, when you know you will live so long, to watch your children die. Even those who were not murdered grew old and died. It’s hard to bring a life into the world, knowing it must end. So after a time many of us stopped. Our races changed, both of them. Your God said that we were evil and sinful, and more hearts hardened …”

Raven stopped and considered. “It is an old story and very long. Much longer I’m sure than you wanted to hear. So here is your answer, my sweet boy. There was a time when our races could breed together, but that time has long passed. A very few of the half-breeds survived and bore children with humans, and so the mixed blood has been passed down, more dilute by half in every generation, until now only the barest traces remain. But they _do_ remain, in men and women like you. And even a trace is very strong.

“The old one you met before, the one who did not kill you. We do not kill our own kind, however faint and distant the tie may be.”

Anthony stared at her. Her story opened up so many questions in his mind. He wasn’t even sure he believed her – though, at this point, with this woman, he was willing to believe anything. She had no reason to lie, anyhow. But one question was burning and urgent.

“The blood,” he said, “your blood. It lets me take whoever I want.”

“It lets you attract them, at any rate.”

“Is that why Elias wants me? Because of the – blood?”

“He wants you because he loves you,” Elias announced from the doorway.

He carried an actual breakfast tray in his both hands, heavily-loaded with cups of coffee, glasses of juice, and plates of steaming crepes rolled around fresh fruit and whipped cream.

_He loves_ – was as far as Marconi’s mind got before it slipped into wild gibberish.

Elias put the tray down on the dresser. “Go,” he said, gesturing toward the bathroom. “I left a toothbrush out for you. Time for breakfast.”

“I …” Anthony still didn’t know what to say. Elias seemed so damn calm about it all. _He loves me?_ Like that sort of thing happened every day. Like it was just a done deal. Raven gave him a little push and he slid out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.

_He loves me?_ he thought wildly while he pissed.

_He loves me?_ while he splashed water on his face and his combed through his hair with both hands.

There was a clean washcloth and towel on the counter. Beside them was robe, black, brand-new and neatly folded, and a toothbrush, still in a cellophane wrapper. Marconi brushed his teeth. He washed up – he needed a shower, but breakfast was waiting – and put the robe on. It fit like it had been custom-made for him.

_He loves me._

They weren’t big on words, either of them.

Really, there wasn’t a whole lot more to say.

He went back into the bedroom.

Raven was wearing her panties and his t-shirt. She was sitting on the far side of the bed with her legs curled up under her, licking whipped cream off a fork. Elias has sitting against the headboard sipping coffee.

Anthony walked over, took the coffee cup away from him and handed it to Raven. Then he leaned down and kissed him long and deep. “I love you, too,” he announced. He straightened, gave the coffee back, then sat down and reached for his own plate of crepes.

Elias merely nodded and gave him a contented little smile, but his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. A few words, but the right words. And that was all there was to say.

 

**The End**


End file.
